


Ghosts That We Know

by KateyBarton



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Aruru mi niño, Bisabuela, But Not In The Creepy Haley Joel Osment Way, Dad!Barba, F/M, He Never Forgave Himself, Little Kids Are Far More Intune To Stuff Like This, Sad!Barba, Theo Sees Dead People, fluff kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 05:14:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13540422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateyBarton/pseuds/KateyBarton
Summary: Four times Catalina Diaz visited her great grandson and one time she didn’t.





	Ghosts That We Know

**Author's Note:**

> A recent trending topic on Twitter inspired this - I thought it might make for a bittersweet little fic.
> 
>  
> 
> I’ve taken it upon myself to make Rafael slightly younger than what is canon so he had time to meet someone and start a family after his Abuelita passed away.

*****

He didn’t know the words yet, not the proper ones anyway. Everything was still a bit of a jumble but he knew the important things – there were two people and he had known them long before he first opened his eyes. They were much bigger than him and they made soft, soothing noises at him. The one that made the deep, low noises would sometimes make them sound pretty and melodic. Other times they’d peck at him with their mouths, making sloppy smooching sounds that made him feel giddy and kick his legs about wildly.

 

They always felt warm and safe and the one with the food liked to carefully trace the tip of her finger over his face, ghosting over his ski-jump nose and the tiny line of his busy lips. She spoke a lot when he was nestled against her like that – he became familiar with certain words like ‘love’ and ‘beautiful’. He heard ‘Theo’ a lot too, even when they weren’t looking at him or holding him close - he decided it must have been an important word.

 

There was a while when he could fit his whole body in the bigger one’s forearm – when his head stayed cradled in a large warm palm and his feet would fit snugly into the crook of his elbow. Despite the nervous faces the bigger one would make, he trusted him completely. Sometimes he found himself up high and looking down at them, it was a whole new perspective and he tried to tell them how much he enjoyed it by making noises and moving his arms and legs quickly. Though one time he felt a bit icky while in this position and soon saw his breakfast all over the bigger ones face. They stopped playing that game for a while after that.

 

There were others, too. That looked down while he was trying to sleep or who bounced him up and down in front of their big faces – but they weren’t the same, they didn’t stay long or do all the special things. They didn’t smell the same or feel as familiar. But there was one who stayed longer than the others, usually watching over him during the dark times while he wafted in and out of nothingness.

 

The first time she startled him and he released a burst of noise around his dummy. She didn’t look like the others – she wore things on her face that made her eyes look too big and he had to blink hard to try to focus on the strange features. Her hands looked different from his as they cupped over her mouth and her big eyes were wet like his sometimes got when no one understood what he was trying to say.

 

“Hermoso niño,” she had whispered over and over to him. He wasn’t sure what it meant but it sure sounded a lot like the things the others said to him.

 

She would stay with him during the dark times after the other two had fed him and left the special pecks on his face. Sometimes if he felt fussy she would make the pretty melodies to help him sleep but most times they just watched one another, studied each other’s features.

 

He liked her.

 

******

Theo Barba was a very busy two-year old; sometimes there wasn’t enough time in the day to get everything done. Between looking after Panda, and keeping him out of trouble, he had to make time for Play-Doh, finger painting and his new favourite activity - hiding his Papá’s reading glasses in increasingly difficult to find locations. Really anything to do with hiding was high on his agenda.

 

At the minute, the most exciting thing in his busy life was that his Papá was spending the whole morning with him while his Mama went to something called ‘yoga.’ Theo didn’t know what that was exactly but she took a mat with her, though it was squishy and boring not like the one he had in his bedroom with the streets and houses on it. Already that morning they had eaten eggs with toast soldiers, built a big town and train station with his colourful blocks and played one game of Hide and Seek, though apparently his Papá forgot how to play because he never said ‘ready or not here I come’ and instead just chased through the apartment calling his name over and over. When Theo was finally discovered behind the shower curtain his Papá’s face was pale and his eyes were big with what Theo had previously learnt was panic.

 

“Mijo, that is not funny,” his Papá had sighed as he picked him up out of the shower and carried him out of the ensuite. It must have just been his Papá that didn’t find it funny because Bisabuela was giggling quietly from where she was perched on the edge of the bathtub and Theo was laughing into his father’s broad shoulder.

 

From as early as he could remember Theo knew no one else could see her – they never tried to speak to her and sometimes they just walked straight past her or sat in her seat.

 

Sometime before lunch when Theo was busy playing with Panda his Bisabuela decided to teach him a special song, one she told him she used to sing to his father when he was little. So often she told him how much he looked like his Papá.

 _Aruru mi niño, arrurú mi amor_  
_Aruru pedazo de mi corazón_  
_Este niño lindo que nació de día_  
_Quiere que lo lleven a la dulcería_

 

Carefully Theo recited the song with her, following the tune she had set and quietly sang the lyrics. He fumbled over a lot of the bigger words and he couldn’t quite wrap his tongue around some of the sounds, instead opting to hum the hard parts but she looked pleased with his attempts.

 

 _Aruru mi niño, aruru mi amor_  
_Aruru pedazo de mi corazón_  
_Este niño lindo que nació de noche_  
_Quiere que lo lleven a pasear en coche_  
_Aruru mi niño aruru mi amor_  
_Aruru pedazo de mi corazón_

 

He picked up Panda by its long floppy black arms and sang what he had learnt into its face, swaying from side to side as he sung. His Bisabuela applauded from the armchair in front of him when he had finished and he beamed up at her and hugged his panda tight to his chest. With all the excitement he hadn’t noticed his Papá standing behind him and when he looked up and over his shoulder he saw the same pale complexion he witnessed when he had hid in the shower that morning. This time was different though, his eyes were teary and Theo didn’t think panic was the right word anymore.

 

“Theo?” His father’s voice was croaky when he finally spoke. “Where did you learn that song?”

 

He looked back to the lady sitting in the chair and then back to his father. He remained silent, unsure what was the right answer and hid his face in the soft fur of his favourite panda.

 

“Did your Abuela teach you that song?” His Papá asked again.

 

He was saved by the loud sound coming from his father’s pocket and he stayed silent as he retrieved the phone and moved to the kitchen, speaking lowly into the device. When Theo looked back to the armchair his Bisabuela was gone. He watched his father pace the floor of the kitchen and frowned.

 

Theo hadn’t meant to upset him. He wouldn’t sing that song again.

 

 

*******

Sometimes one bedtime story wasn’t enough. Actually, one was never enough but apparently his Mama thought one reading of One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish was ample given it was ‘way past his bedtime.’ He didn’t know anything about the time or how to tell it but it was very dark and everything was quiet. He felt like he’d already been asleep for ages, probably a hundred hours, and he wanted another story to put him back to sleep.

 

Usually his Mama would snuggle up next to him and read one of his favourites. She always did the different voices and took plenty of time to let him look at the pictures before turning the page. Some nights he’d get to curl up in their huge bed and his Mama would read and then let him fall asleep next to her. Then sometime later his Papá would carry him back to his own bed and tuck him in next to Panda. On the weekends his Papá would read to him before bed, he’d choose the books written in Spanish to help teach him.

 

Luckily for Theo someone else was happy to read to him and in the light of his special dinosaur nightlight Theo popped down from his bed and picked out the very special, very old Little Golden Book from the shelf on the other side of the room. He was never afraid of any monsters when she was there to keep watch at night time.

 

Very carefully he carried the special Disney Robin Hood book back to his bed and crawled up to return under the covers. He scooted over to the furthest side of the bed so he was close to the wall, allowing plenty of room for his Bisabuela to sit next to him. His job, as she had instructed, was to hold the vintage book and turn the pages when she said so and he happily listened as she recited the adventures of Robin and Little John. She didn’t do the voices like his mother did but he didn’t mind – her soft sweet voice was like a warm hug and he liked that she always chose the special book that belonged to his Papá.

 

With only a few pages left Theo’s eyes had grown heavy and struggled to stay open. He hadn’t noticed the soft footsteps of his Mama as she trotted out to check on him. Standing in the doorway, her belly swollen and stretching her pyjama shirt, she watched him turn the page with particularly gentle fingers.

 

“What are you doing up?” his heavy head shot up at the sound of her whisper and she made her way to his bed.

 

“Reading a sto’y,” he informed her. Wasn’t it obvious?

 

Theo watched as his mother’s eyes darted from the vintage book to the space next to him and then to the panda squashed between him and the wall. “Are you reading to Panda?”

 

He shook his head theatrically and laughed, “no, Bisabuela do reading. I turn pages.”

 

His bedroom was shadowy from the nightlight and though it was difficult to see, his Mama’s face looked the same as his Papá’s had when he’d sung the special lullaby to Panda all those months ago.

 

“Who?” His Mama whispered softly.

 

Theo couldn’t understand why she looked so confused but he tried his best to explain. “Papá’s Abuela.”

 

Usually his Mama had an answer for everything but this time she just stared at him, her eyebrows furrowed and her face still pale. She swallowed a few times and worried her bottom lip with her top front teeth and Theo thought she looked how he felt whenever he tried hard to remember the right words. He looked from her to the lady cuddled up next to him. Bisabuela was busy watching his mother closely - something she did a lot when they were in the same room.

 

“It’s really very late, honey. I think we both need to get some sleep,” she finally said as she cautiously patted his foot hiding under the covers. “Okay?”

 

Theo didn’t know much about his parents before he came along – as far as he was concerned they were always Mama and Papá. He had seen photos of them without him where they looked different, ‘younger,’ but that was probably only a couple of minutes before he arrived. At his Abuela’s house there were photos of his Papá with Bisabuela though he had never seen any pictures with her and his Mama. He thought that was very strange and wondered whether she knew who he was talking about.

 

“She lubs you,” Theo informed her as he laid his heavy head on his pillow and hugged Panda to his chest. He tried to remember exactly what she had told him. “You a good Mama and ve’y good for Papá.”

 

Fighting against exhaustion Theo eventually gave in and closed his eyes but before he could completely surrender to sleep he heard a faint sniffling from the hallway outside his bedroom.

 

 

******  
**

In his opinion, the only positive thing he could say about being sick was that he got lots of cuddles from his Mama and Papá but that didn’t stop the terrible feeling inside his head that made his face hurt and his nose turn red and snotty. They kept calling it a ‘cold’ though that made absolutely no sense because he felt way too warm to be cold. Apparently his father was cold too because they were both home together in their pyjamas eating soup and blowing their noses over and over again. His Papá’s nose was a lot bigger than his and it was currently bright red which made his voice sound funny and if Theo hadn’t felt so yucky he’d probably giggle but instead he just curled up close to his Papá in an attempt to sleep.

 

He woke with a start and found himself alone lying on the couch with a big pillow propping his head up and a blanket over his body. It was still bright from the big window he used to watch the city below and he couldn’t hear his Mama or the noisy baby. As he carefully crawled down from the couch he heard a loud sneeze emanate from the last room in the hallway and took off toward the sound.

 

His Papá was sitting in the big rollie chair at his desk with a box of tissues on his lap. He was making the fast tapping noises on his laptop, which must have hurt his head if it was aching anything like Theo’s was. In the brown leather armchair in the corner of the office sat his Bisabuela who gave him a little wave as Theo sought the comforting embrace of his father.

 

“Mijo,” his Papá croaked, moving the tissue box onto the desk and picking him up under the arms to place him carefully in his lap.

“How’re _you_ feeling?”

 

He didn’t really know the right words so instead leaned his aching head against the warm chest in front of him and let out a sad whine. It felt a little better when his father’s large hand gently cradled his head and ran his fingers in little circles at his throbbing temple.

 

“Yeah, it’s no fun,” he groaned his agreement. “But we have to get better, don't want to give it Mama or Rosie right now.”

 

Theo frowned against the dark t-shirt next to his face – why would he give his Mama this? He gives her besos, and flowers he finds in the park and the leftover banana he doesn’t want to eat. He would never give her this. Why would Papá even _think_ he’d want to give her the icky feelings and the leaky nose? He certainly said some weird things sometimes.

 

A sudden flash of light reflected off the gold poking out from the neck of his father’s t-shirt and Theo reached up to delicately pull the chain from it’s hiding place. Hanging just before his eyes was the fine gold pendent he had seen so many times before. As the constant tapping from the keyboard next to him continued Theo inspected the small piece of jewellery.

 

“From Bisabuela,” his own voice sounded so small in his blocked ears.

 

His father grunted and his busy fingers immediately stopped typing. “What?”

 

“This from your Abuela,” Theo clarified though he couldn’t understand why he needed to, his Papá should already know where he got the necklace from.

 

After a very long moment he felt the solid chest he was resting against lean forward and he watched as the laptop was pushed to the back of the desk. Then two big hands took hold of him and sat him up on the edge of the mahogany desk. Face-to-face with his Papá he watched as two lines appeared between his eyebrows.

 

“Did your Abuela tell you that?” His father asked as he kept a careful hand on his torso to keep him in place.

 

Theo shook his head, “No, _your_ Abuela.” Why was this so hard to understand?

 

“Theo,” he exhaled and then suppressed a small cough into his elbow.

 

Theo straightened his back to look over his father’s shoulder to the lady sitting behind them and she offered him a small nod. Glancing back to his Papá’s stern expression he reached out to lay both his little hands on either side of his face. His skin was prickly and Theo thought back to when he’d sometimes rub his scratchy face all over his own to make him squeal with laughter. His skin felt warm, too – just like his own did and carefully, because his head probably hurt too, he tried to move his head to look at the leather armchair.

 

“She there, Papá. On the big chair.”

 

Frustrated, he tried to coax his father’s face to look even though he knew there was nothing for him to see. Eventually he moved without Theo’s guidance and slowly let the swivel chair roll slightly to the side. He stayed with his head turned away from Theo for some time before returning and immediately laying one palm on Theo’s forehead and the other on his own.

 

“I think it’s time for more medicine and a very long lie down,” he muttered as he moved to pick Theo up.

 

Much to Theo’s surprise, as well as his father’s judging by how high his eyebrows jumped; he shouted a loud and resounding, “No!”

 

“No,” he repeated using his inside voice. “She sits there. Sees you do work.”

 

His Papá closed his eyes tight and shook his head, “Please, Mijo we’re not playing make believe right now.”

 

He couldn’t understand why this was so difficult but the more he spoke the more upset his Papá became. Usually he was so excited to hear whatever he had to tell him but this was different - he didn’t like the way his eyes, so like his own, grew sad and watery and the bump in his neck kept bobbing up and down. Theo changed his mind; he wanted to stop now, he wanted to go back to the living room with his toys and his panda and the television but when he looked to the corner of the room his Bisabuela was dabbing at her eyes with a white hanky and nodding at him, encouraging him to continue.

 

“El juez,” Theo muttered softly after some time.

 

He watched his father’s body shake and a quiet chuckle broke the silence of the small office.

“I’m not a judge, Abuelita.”

 

“She proud of you,” Theo tentatively whispered. “Tolds me all the time.”

 

A thick bubble of a sob left his Papá’s lips and Theo quickly climbed into his lap and wrapped his arms around his neck to comfort him. Resting the side of his face against his Papá’s trembling shoulders he closed his eyes and listened to the shaky breaths he released into the otherwise quiet room. Occasionally when his Mama was pregnant with the baby she’d cry and Theo would gladly hug her and try to make her feel better – he had never had to do the same for his Papá. Last week Theo had tripped on a tree root whilst running around in the park and scratched up his hands and knees and his Papá had scooped him up and held him close until he calmed down. Then he’d used his special band-aids to fix all the ouchies. Theo wondered where he could put the special band-aid to help his Papá before settling for just hugging him tight.

 

 

It was a long time before his father finally raised his head and cleared his throat. Carefully he placed his cheek on the top of Theo’s head and spoke slowly and quietly, “Will you tell her I’m sorry and that I love and miss her.”

 

Theo could understand his father was still distraught so he’d forgive him for being so silly, but he couldn’t help but point out the flaw in his request. He shifted out from under the weight of his head and looked up into his teary eyes, “Papá, she has ears.”

 

He watched as his features twisted into a broad smile and the rippling of quiet laughter that vibrated from his chest was a sweet relief for Theo. It felt nice having his normal Papá back though he did think it might be time for some more medicine and maybe some juice, also he realised he’d left Panda alone in the living room and that was _never_ a good idea.

 

When he looked up and over to the leather armchair his Bisabuela was standing with her delicate bony hands placed over her heart and she was smiling widely at them. Slowly she pressed her lips together and blew him a kiss, waving it to him with her left hand. Theo caught it but instead of pressing his palm against his own lips like he so often did with her special kisses he gently brushed his hand against his Papá’s mouth. He needed this one more.

 

 

*********

Theo was finally getting used to having a baby around the place. Sure she made too much noise and was responsible for some pretty terrible smells but she was okay, she was his hermana. However he did find that she was far more palatable when she was sleeping, or just lying down quietly or when she grabbed hold of his hand and smiled up at him. 

 

During one particularly stinky explosion Theo sought the fresh, untainted air of the living room where he could breath normally without having to pull his favourite t-rex t-shirt over his head. His Mama was on her own now - there was only so much he was willing to do to help. He told her to call him when it was time to play or feed; those things he’d prefer to help with.

 

Turning the corner out of the hallway as quickly as he could he abruptly stopped in surprise at the sight of his Bisabuela. She was sitting on the couch in front of the picture window, the afternoon sun shining down perfectly over her shoulders. His Papá was curled up fast asleep beside her; his reading glasses were askew where they sat squashed against his face and the pillow. Rosie had been very loud during the night and Theo had resolved to burying his head under the pillows but apparently his father wasn’t that clever – he would have to explain his technique once he was awake.

 

Theo could only just hear the soft melody of his Bisabuela’s voice as it hummed and serenaded his sleeping Papá. The song sounded familiar though he didn’t want to encroach any further and disturb her, not when she looked so content watching him sleep. To Theo, it seemed like a pretty boring thing to do but it seemed to make her happy and so he stealthily walked past the two of them and sought out where he had last seen Panda.

 

 _Aruru mi niño, arrurú mi amor_  
_Aruru pedazo de mi corazón_  
_Este niño lindo que nació de día_  
_Quiere que lo lleven a la dulcería_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> Aruru my baby, aruru my love,  
> Aruru little piece of my heart.  
> This pretty baby who was born during the day,  
> Wants to be taken to the candy shop.
> 
> Aruru my baby, aruru my love,  
> Aruru little piece of my heart.  
> This pretty baby who was born at night,  
> Wants to be taken for a stroller ride.  
> Aruru my baby, aruru my love,  
> Aruru little piece of my heart.


End file.
